Disclaimer: For this story I 'borrowed' the characters and situations that J.K. Rowling created and are owned by her and her publishers. I don't make any money from this and I don't intend any copyright or trademark infringement with it.
Summary: Harry is at Grimmauld Place during the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts and tries to come to terms with Sirius' death and the contents of the prophecy, can Hermione help him with that? One-shot, Pre-HBP.
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Rating: T (just to be safe)
Spoilers: Books 1-5
Author Notes: This is the first story I have ever written, so please bare with me if you choose to review. It was written before HBP came out. I am not a native speaker of the English language so I apologise if I made mistakes in grammar or phrasing. And as I have not yet found a beta-reader, this story is only beta-read by myself. (If you would like to beta-read future stories of mine, let me know.) On to the story now. I hope you like it.
Telling Her
A couple of weeks ago Harry had arrived at the Order of the Phoenix Head Quarters. It was hard to be back in the House of Black, now that Sirius wasn't there anymore. The other people who were to be found at Headquarters regularly, or who lived there with him for now – like the Weasleys and Hermione – tried their best to be there for him. But still Harry often felt the need to be alone and at these times he went to Buckbeak's room. Everyone knew not to bother him there. Last Christmas he had gone to Buckbeak's room to hide from the others. This time he didn't hide from the others; he still spent time with them whenever he wasn't retreating to Buckbeak's room. It was just that he sometimes needed time to be alone and think about everything that had happened.
And a lot had happened in the last couple of months. Not only had Sirius died, but Harry had now also heard about his destiny. A horrible destiny. So he had a lot of things he needed to come to terms with. Everybody knew, of course, about Sirius' death, but Harry hadn't told anyone about the Prophecy yet. He just couldn't tell anybody. Not yet. It was too big an issue for him to deal with and he didn't feel ready to share it yet. A few of the other people staying at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix knew that he worried a lot over things. Molly Weasley often gave him a hug when he had been very silent again at dinner, and Hermione often sought him out, sitting down opposite him, looking at him intently, while loads of worried thoughts went through his mind. At these times she'd say things to him that she hoped would help him to open up, like how good it feels to share your problems, and how he doesn't have to deal with everything on his own, and how it isn't good for you to keep things to yourself. Often she let shimmer through in the words she chose that she had an idea that there was more on his mind than just Sirius' death. She never pushed him into telling anything and she seemed to understand that it was really hard for him to talk about it, and Harry appreciated that about her. Whenever he said, "I'm sorry Hermione, I can't," she'd take his hand in hers, and smiling sympathetically at him, she told him, "Whenever you feel like talking to someone, you know I'll be there for you." He'd nod to her, and as he'd look up into her eyes, she'd see the ghosts of sadness in his. Then she'd leave him alone again to let him think. If there was anyone he had thought about telling everything about the Prophecy to, it was Hermione. But up until now, the time or circumstances were never right. Once he had been on the verge of telling her, but it had been at the long table in the kitchen, with Molly working on something cooking on the stove a few yards away from them. He wanted to be alone with Hermione when he told her. And another time it had been in the bedroom he shared with Ron, and though they were alone at that moment, Ron could come bursting into the room at any moment.
So here he was again in Buckbeak's room, sitting with his back to the wall, opposite the door, and beneath the window. His knees pulled up in front of him and his arms resting on them. Buckbeak was silently cleaning his feathers. Harry was absently playing with a stray of straw, his thoughts at the events of little more than a month ago at the Ministry of Magic. There was especially one thing about that night he was thinking about a lot these days. Something that he had discovered as he – in his mind – went back to that fateful night. The moment that Hermione had been struck down by the Death Eater's curse seemed to come back to haunt him. He had been so afraid he had lost her forever… He had pondered a lot about how it would have been his fault if she really had died that night. And if the Death Eater had chosen another curse to cast at her, she would have. He really felt so guilty about putting her in danger like that. He hadn't thought about it at the time, but now it came to him so clearly. Of course his other friends, who were with him in the Department of Mysteries, had been in the same danger, and he felt guilty towards them too, but somehow, with Hermione, it was different. He hadn't been as scared for Ron when he was attacked by the brain, or for Luna or Ginny that something bad would happen to them, as he had been for Hermione when she was cursed by the Death Eater. He didn't want to think about what it would have been like if she really had died that night, but somehow the thoughts forced themselves into his mind. That curse on Hermione had really affected him badly.
And while he thought about her he started to discover other feelings he had about her as well. He realised that he sometimes admired her, for her knowledge, and skills of putting it into practise. He always felt comfortable in her presence, in whatever situation and in whatever mood they were. Her opinion meant more to him than the opinion of others; he really considered what she had to say. And also, ever since the Yule ball in their fourth year at Hogwarts, he had come to think of how pretty she really was. Since that night he had started to look at her differently. He noticed the glow of the sunlight in her hair. He noticed the twinkling in her eyes. He noticed the fairness of the skin of her cheeks… The more he thought about it all, the more he came to think there was only one way to explain how he felt…
Hermione had been there for him. Always. Even when other people hadn't been. She had always believed him, and she had always believed in him. She had helped him a great deal in the five years that he now knew her. Sometimes he had asked for her help and sometimes she had helped him of her own accord; some of these times without him even realising he could use her help. She had come up with some brilliant ideas to make his life a lot easier when he himself hadn't seen a way out, like when she had organised the DA this past year at Hogwarts. It had felt so good to be able to teach others Defence Against the Dark Arts. Not only because he was fighting Umbridge behind her back, but also because he could turn the nasty experiences of witnessing Voldemort's return and fighting with him on several occasions into something good, not to mention that it was at some point in the school year the only thing that made him feel good when he had lost all the other things that gave him pleasure. And then, of course, there was the interview with him that she had gotten published in the Quibbler. It had made his life so much easier now that a lot of people around him finally believed his story. The tension that fell away with the interview being published and read by so many people had been such a relief. And it did something else for him as well, because talking about it had helped a lot to come to terms with it. So again it worked more than one way. Now that he thought about it, those things that Hermione had organised had made a huge difference. And he himself would never have come up with those things. He was so very grateful to her for what she'd done for him. The thought that she had almost died because of his doing was unbearable. What would he do without her?
Thinking about all this, he came to a realisation.
"I love her," he suddenly said to Buckbeak. "I really think that I love her, Buckbeak."
Buckbeak turned his head to face him, tilting it a little bit to the side as if to give him a sympathetic look. At that moment there was a knock on the door, and the person behind it turned the handle. Harry, surprised, looked up to the door and saw Hermione enter. His heart started beating fast and he started to feel warm with the object of his thoughts so suddenly appearing in front of him. He put one of his hands on the floor beside him, pushing himself a bit more upright in an effort to compose himself. Hermione looked at him for a second before turning her attention to Buckbeak and bowing for him. He lowered his head to her bow and she stepped nearer to him to pat him on his beak. Then she turned to Harry, who had had his eyes on her all this time. He watched her walk over to him and then sit down on the floor beside him, facing him, with her legs crossed in front of her. Neither had said anything yet, they just looked at each other.
"Tell me," was all she said softly, taking his hand – that was lying on the floor in front of her – in hers. For a moment Harry just looked at her, she smiled at him encouragingly.
Then he turned his eyes away from hers and stared down at the straw that he still held in his other hand. 'This is it,' he thought. 'There isn't going to be a better time than this. I have to tell her now.' They were alone, in Buckbeak's room, just the two of them; no one would bother them here. So after a moment he said, "I er… There's so much, I…" he trailed off.
"Start with the thing that worries you the most," she said, knowing what it was that he had wanted to say.
Harry thought for a moment. What worried him most right now were his feelings for her. But he couldn't possibly tell her that now, so he settled on the thing that worried him second to most.
"There's something that Dumbledore told me," he started, still looking down at the straw in his hand, "about the prophecy…" And he started telling her everything that had been on his mind since his talk with Dumbledore in his office. Tears were running down his face when he told her of the meaning of the prophecy, about how he had to kill or be killed. He couldn't hold the tears inside any longer and he didn't even try to. He knew that Hermione would understand. And when he told her, tears escaped from her eyes as well. When he had finished, she said to him, "Come here," letting his hand – that she had been holding all this time – go and opening her arms to him in invitation to a hug. He crawled the short distance between them over to her and wrapped his arms around her as she wrapped hers around him. Then he really started sobbing on her shoulder, while she soothed him by running her hands up and down his back and through his messy hair, crying silently herself to the news that he'd just told her.
They stayed that way for a long time. Taking comfort from each other. Feeling the heaviness of the story he'd just told drain away with it, making room for peace and quiet, and maybe even already a bit of acceptance, as they calmed down again. But there was more to tell and Harry needed to get it out. Reluctantly he pulled himself back slightly from Hermione, though they both kept their arms around each other. Both of them needing the comforting touch.
"A servant of Voldemort heard part of the prophecy," Harry said, his eyes once again cast down. And he told her about the reason Voldemort had tried to kill him as a baby and how he wanted to hear the whole prophecy since he came back to his body, to get to know how to destroy him. How Voldemort now had found out that Harry sometimes shared his thoughts and feelings, and by means of the dream had lured him to the Department of Mysteries.
"I shouldn't have gone to save Sirius that night, I should have known it was a trap," he said.
"No, Harry…" Hermione interrupted him.
"No really, Hermione," Harry cut across her, looking her in the eyes now as he was a little agitated that she tried to change his mind, "now he's dead. If I hadn't gone to save him, he'd still be alive, he wouldn't have had to come to my… to our rescue," he said, looking down again due to the guilt he felt. Then he quietly added, taking Hermione's words out of her mouth, "Dumbledore already told me I'm not to blame, that Sirius would not have wanted to sit at home while I was in danger, but I can't help feeling guilty about it."
"I can understand your feelings of guilt, Harry," Hermione said quietly, trying to be careful with how she chose her words, not wanting to scare Harry off now that he had finally opened up, "but you couldn't have known it was a trap. We know that V-Voldemort can be very persuasive, so don't blame yourself for not seeing it was a trap, Harry. You're not to blame for believing that Sirius was in danger. And you tried to go and save him, because you loved him."
Harry turned his head up again when she said that and looked at her.
"You loved him enough to put yourself in danger for him," Hermione continued. "To be honest with you, I'm glad you can feel such a deep kind of love for someone. But don't get me wrong," she added hastily, "I don't want you to put yourself in danger, but the fact that you can love so deeply…"
"I know that's why I tried to save Sirius that night," Harry replied quietly, casting his eyes down once again with the sadness he felt. "But Sirius is dead and that wasn't necessary. Now I don't have anyone left. My parents were already dead, and now my godfather has died too." He was silent for a moment, lost in thought.
"I was so glad when I found out he was my godfather," he said, looking at Hermione again. His voice cracked with the emotions that were welling up in him again at the memories. "He was like a connection to my parents. And now he's gone, too. And I still have so many questions left to ask him."
Tears were reappearing in Harry's eyes and Hermione pulled him back into her arms again. Knowing that at this moment he just needed all the comfort she could give him, a listening ear, talking sense would have to wait till later.
Harry cried softly on her shoulder again, clinging to her. The thoughts of Sirius coming to their rescue and dying because of it had reawakened his thoughts of earlier that afternoon, that he had put his friends in danger by taking them with him to the Department of Mysteries. That he had almost lost his closest friend.
"I thought I had lost you, Hermione," he croaked into her shoulder, as a new wave of emotion flooded through him at this thought, new, fresh tears falling with it. "In the Department of Mysteries… when that Death Eater cursed you… I thought you had died… and I panicked…" Harry told her between sobs.
Hermione let the words sink in, still holding him in her embrace. Harry, panicking? He never panicked! Never! But when he thought she was dead…
"I thought, 'It's all my fault…' But then Neville said that he felt a pulse, and I was so extremely relieved. But I shouldn't have gone and take you all with me to save Sirius, I shouldn't have put you in danger."
"Harry," Hermione said, taking his shoulders and pushing him away from her a little so that there was a small gap between them again and she could make him look her in the eyes while she said what she was going to say.
"Listen to me. I went with you to the Department of Mysteries of my own free will. We all did. I was there beside you of my own free will. I wanted to be there beside you! You shouldn't blame yourself for getting me in danger, it was a choice I made for myself."
"I didn't look at it that way yet," Harry replied softly casting his eyes down again. Hermione pulled his chin up to get him to look at her again and said seriously, "I don't want you to blame yourself."
"But I don't want you to be in that kind of danger, Hermione," Harry said just as seriously. "I care about you too much…"
He looked down at his hands, afraid to meet her eyes. He was about to tell her one more thing that he had worried about, and he was a little scared of her reaction. But he couldn't wait; he shouldn't wait. He hadn't been able to talk about all the things he wanted to talk about with Sirius; he didn't want something like that to happen to him again. He didn't want Hermione never knowing how he really felt about her. He fiercely hoped that he wasn't going to lose her anytime soon like he had lost Sirius, but he knew now that life is short, and that you have to take the chance when you've got it. He knew he would risk losing their friendship by telling her this, but something inside him made him feel that she wasn't going to leave him after hearing what he had to say. So he said, looking up into her eyes again so she could see that he was serious about it, "You just said I loved Sirius, and therefore wanted to save him, but I love you too…"
"I know you do, Harry, I'm one of your best friends. And I love you too, because you're my best friend, and that's why I wanted to be there beside you."
"No," Harry said quickly, as he realised she had misinterpreted his words, "I mean…" he tried again, but doubt had settled in his mind. She had just told him that he was her best friend; maybe there was nothing more to it for her than that. But he couldn't crawl back now; he had to say this… He had to get it out. And looking down at his hands again, he said, "I hope that what I'm about to say isn't going to ruin our friendship, but…" And he looked up to her again when he said, "I'm in love with you, Hermione…"
A slight smile appeared on Hermione's face that steadily grew bigger, "Oh Harry, you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that," she said vehemently, "I'm in love with you too, I have been for a long time."
Harry looked at her for a moment, a smile forming on his face too. They looked deeply into each other's eyes, seeing the respect, admiration and above all love they felt mirrored in the others eyes. Then Harry slowly leaned forward. Feelings of anticipation flowing through him, and then gently captured her lips with his own. Releasing with his kiss all that he had started to feel for her in the last few months. He was in heaven when he felt her kissing him back.
Their first kiss was tender and so full of love. It felt better than anything either of them had ever experienced before. Soon they grew bolder, having been best friends and so comfortable with each other for years and knowing each other inside out. Their kiss deepened and Harry took off his glasses – that were now getting in the way – without breaking the kiss, before he tightened his arms around Hermione, pulling her closer still, while she tangled her fingers in his hair. They were both slightly breathless when they pulled apart again, still resting their foreheads, and rubbing their noses, together.
"I guess, what I was trying to say to you before was, that I can't bare to lose you, because I love you so much. You mean the world to me Hermione, and I want to keep you save," Harry said.
"I know," she said, while they pulled only a few inches apart to be able to look at each other. "I feel the same about you, but we both know that there are dangerous times ahead of us, and I want to be there by your side when you face the dangers that you have to face. I want to know that I didn't stay behind in a save place wondering if I could have done something to help you, had I gone with you. I want to know that I did everything in my power to help you, whatever the outcome." She thought for a moment, then added, "We've been through so much already, Harry, and we will get through whatever it is the future will bring us. Together."
Harry was so moved by her words, he was at a loss for words himself. So to show her how he felt, he lovingly kissed her again, tightening his embrace of her.
When they ended the kiss, they didn't let each other go but hugged each other close, resting their heads on each others shoulder, revelling in the feelings of warmth flowing through them.
But then there was Molly's voice, calling up the stairs, "Harry, Hermione, dinner is almost ready!"
Harry raised his head off Hermione's shoulder and shouted, "We're coming!" back to Molly.
"Let's just stay this way a little longer. She said "almost", we have a few more minutes," Harry said softly into Hermione's ear. Hermione agreed.
Eventually they got up off the floor after Harry had put his glasses back on, and – taking each others hand, entwining their fingers together – they went to say Buckbeak goodbye, then left the room to go downstairs. But before they arrived at the landing where the rooms of all the Weasleys were, Hermione whispered, "I think it's best to keep us to ourselves for a while yet, there's a certain member of the Weasley family who wouldn't be too happy to find out I'm with you now, and I don't want to face such a kind of revelation tonight."
"Yeah, you're probably right," Harry said. And they dropped their hands when they set foot on the landing.
They went to dinner both feeling relieved. A problem shared was a problem halved for Harry, and Hermione was glad he had shared what was on his mind with her. She had been so worried about him lately. They both felt strengthened that they now had each other – even more so than before – to get through whatever lay in the future.
The End.